Not long ago, I finally watched the movie Titanic. For years I had resisted seeing it despite its wild success; I heard there were some rather tragic scenes that I thought I could do without. But the movie was on TV and I decided to tune in.
A few days later I had an insight that I thought might be worth sharing.
There are many reasons that lives were tragically lost on the Titanic’s maiden voyage, but one of the main ones—at least as depicted in the film—had to do with pride and ego running the show.
Because its designers believed the vessel to be virtually unsinkable, they chose to devote extra room on the decks for strolling, instead of dedicating enough space to have lifeboats for every passenger. Despite ships in the area reporting that there were ice floes ahead, the captain traveled at top speed in an attempt to break records, making it impossible to change direction fast enough to avoid the iceberg. And because of the crew’s unwillingness to accept that the boat might be in trouble, they failed to act swiftly enough to load the lifeboats to their capacity in an orderly way.
Here was my takeaway from the movie:
We are at greatest risk of sinking when we think we are unsinkable.
And when we are alerted to the possibility that something is wrong, we need to put pride aside and take action to get the help we need.
The movie was a powerful reminder of what I try to remind parents of every day: We are not unsinkable. We need to accept that parenting is difficult and that we will need help—whether it comes in the form of guidance about a nagging child-related concern, a chance to spend time with friends as our grownup selves, or someone to watch our little ones so that we can simply take a nap.
We sink. We sink almost every day, if not many times a day. Sinking isn’t the issue. The issue is, when we start sinking, or find ourselves flailing about in rough waters—will we call out for help.
As parents, we often hold ourselves to impossible standards. We’re sure people are judging us as inadequate when our kids have a meltdown in the middle of Target. We shrink with embarrassment when our children get wild at Grandma’s. We imagine everyone else has it all together—obedient and tidy kids—while chaos rules in our homes.
And even when things are seriously falling apart—what we thought was our son trying a beer now and then is actually nightly use, or our daughter’s anxiety is so overwhelming that she is quitting activities she once enjoyed—we may try to convince ourselves that everything is ok.
We will sink. We will not always know what to do. Like our children, we will have moods. Like our children, we will trip over our fears, worries and resentments. Like them, we will get hungry or tired or overstimulated. We will fall apart. We will need help.
The important question is, Will we ask for the help we need?
Glennon Melton has created a tribe on her momastery.com blog that brings together hundreds of thousands of people offering support, kindness, and even dollars, when that is what is needed. One of the things I find most attractive about this community is that shame is not allowed; Glennon writes candidly about not only her bright, shiny moments, but about the darkest ones, as well. Others feel safe to follow suit, admitting that sometimes it all seems too hard and they raise their hands when they need prayer, propping up, or a new roof.
As a therapist, I have seen how difficult it is for people to raise their hands and admit, “I’m hurting. I’m in trouble. I need help.” As a society, we’re making progress, but there is still a stigma attached to being imperfect or in trouble, particularly in the parenting realm where we make our children’s behavior or achievements an indication of our success or worthiness.
I hope that as you read this, you are well and life is going smoothly. But if that’s not the case, if you can’t shake a nagging concern over your teenager’s withdrawal from the family, or you’re struggling to manage your temper, please let this site and the various ways I am extending support become a refuge for you.
Be imperfect. Know that parenting is really hard. Ask for help. Reach out to those you trust, or create trustworthy friendships where you get to tell the truth. Call a friend or a neighbor and tell them you’re in a little trouble…or a lot. Visit our tribe on Facebook, or Glennon’s. None of us are unsinkable, but if we help one another, we will all manage to float.
There’s room in this lifeboat for us all.
Wishing you well,
